RUMBLINGS…

Time to give the mended knee a road test.

With the blessing of Settle physio John – he and his colleague Tim have done a great job helping to heal the torn ligaments in my right knee  – yesterday saw me  return to the hills.

And about time too.

Didn’t Steph and I move from Glasgow to the Yorkshire Dales three months ago with the express intent of spending as much time as possible exploring this beautiful landscape?

Thanks to the injury – a result of stupidly lifting stupidly heavy plant pots between addresses – this was only our second hillwalk in all that time.

And what an interesting day we picked.

Though it was cold and troublingly windy, most of the snow that had fallen a day or two earlier had gone; the streams were up and the ground which would have been frozen hard and easy to cross just a couple of days earlier was boggy and sodden.

Nevertheless, as we climbed the lane out of Stainforth that leads past the spectacular Catrigg Force, I felt elated to be heading back on to the moors and was propelled up the steep lane by the adrenaline of enthusiasm as much as anything else. 

Our planned route – up to the force, over Fountains Fell and then on to Pen y Ghent and back by bus or the Ribble Way – was ultimately cut short at Dalehead by fading daylight (we’d not set off until late) and rumbling tums, as the strong wind and occasional hail showers had deterred us from stopping for any lunch.

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We awoke this morning to find the garden beneath half an inch of snow. Seems filling the bird feeders and chopping logs for the stove yesterday was done in the nick of time.

Did I say in my last blog entry that we’d have new stuff on the website in November? I hadn’t anticipated just what a chore moving into a new home could be. Instead of the lick of paint and fresh wallpaper we anticipated, we’ve been spending our time ditching carpets (victims of pets that hadn’t been house-trained), exposing a crazy wiring system, adding insulation and generally planning how to get a JCB, three dump trucks and a flame thrower into the bathroom to cauterise the bad-taste suite we’ve inherited.

Gosh, listen to me, I’m getting all domestic in me new pad!

Actually, there’s been little scope for anything else. Within days of moving in I found I’d torn a ligament on my right knee (lifting plant pots, if you must know – in my defence Steph’s growing triffids) and the local doc immediately banned me from the hills and booked me in for a course of physiotherapy at Settle’s Health Centre.

I’ve got to say, the treatment and attention have been superb. Before I’d even left the doc’s surgery he’d dictated a letter to the physio, and before a letter inviting me to make an appointment had arrived the physio, Tim, had called me personally to invite me to drop by. 

Since then I’ve had one or two weekly sessions of ultra sound, a gentle exercise regime (on my Dad’s old exercise bike!) and even massage…

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